Wednesday market, Chinese store, VIN
A morning of American coffee, the last of Elena's torta (Joe), oatmeal biscuits (me), and reading and doing crosswords, before showering and going to the market.
Approaching the usual fogies congregating outside Bar Europa, Joe looks ready to walk up and join them.
We ran into Fina as we arrived, and later saw Maria Teresa and Pina. Mariella had already come and gone, after her morning Pilates class.
I told Joe, I'm not looking for anything, but this is where people run into friends. And I like eavesdropping on tidbits of conversation. Sometimes I learn a new phrase, or how to deal with a vendor, just by watching and listening. Best of all is seeing where the old ladies congregate--those places have the best food or the best shopping deals. Right now they're all over the Christmas stuff. People set up their own presepe at home.
With Joe as my shield, I could take photos of the market unobtrusively. Too bad you can't hear what's going on--it's a joyful noise!
Baccalà
Sundries
I wish I could buy this in the States. Schiacciata really isn't the same without it.
Salume e formaggi
My favorite market guys. The smiling one in the foreground looks out for me; he doesn't let budgers take my place when
I've been waiting.
I can say that in Minnesota, I probably wouldn't buy fish from the back of a van. Here, it's more normal than going
to the grocery store.
Formaggeria
More baccalà
Always a line for their salume or spit-roasted chicken. Note the wine in 2-litre plastic bottles for €2!
The morning's fresh sheep's milk ricotta
in the foreground.
Eat the rainbow.
When I saw Maria Teresa and Pina, they told me they saw Joe waiting in the main pathway. I asked if he were tapping his foot. He's been very patient, supportive (waiting without complaining) and calm; these crowded markets aren't his thing. My sister, however, would love this--it's an open-air TJMaxx!
Now to the Chinese store to exchange the too-small ciabatte I bought for Joe. It's on the other end of town, so we got our steps in.
It's funny, because the metric measure for Joe's shoe size is exactly what I bought--I even rounded up and they're still too small. But looking for replacements, the same metric size number on another pair looked as if, I told Joe, he were ready to waterski. He hadn't wanted to try any on, and was becoming a little like my son John on a clothes shopping trip. We'll just leave that one there.
But the ranges of sizes for the same measure --huh. I guess we're in a Chinese store, after all; qualunque cosa di cina. Everything's from China. Size must depend on what age the child is who helped manufacture the pair. Those hands could be big or tiny.
The guy at the cassa handling the exchange (the proprietor, I'm guessing), pulled my Lidl receipt out of the bag. I apologized for accidentally leaving it in there, and found the receipt from his store. He kept going back to the Lidl receipt. I finally turned it over and put my finger on the Lidl logo, pushing his store's receipt even closer to him. Weirdly, he kept going back to my Lidl receipt. I think he was curious what I buy there. Finally, the transaction for the exchange was made. I asked for my receipt (from his store) back, as I had other items on it. He rudely responded, "Vai!" You go/shoo/get on! Rude, but I wasn't going to deal with it. Normally I don't care about these things, but I was a little crabby after dealing with the slipper measuring episode. It was my turn to be rude, as I turned and started walking away, muttering to myself, aloud, in English, "Ok; whatever the fuck." He began yelling something as I was walking, and Joe nudged me around. The guy crossed off the slippers from my original receipt, and handed me what I asked for in the first place.
Another olive oil processing business, this one on via Tutte Grazie
The house I hoped was abandoned and for sale has Christmas decorations adorning it, ruining that dream for now.
Red cyclamen is a popular Christmas plant
There's a reason I took this, which
I've since forgotten
Here's the basket vendor with those curious little metal stands with drawers
Can't get enough
We stopped at Bar Cristal, to check if VIN, their dine-in restaurant, is open tonight, since we had tried a couple of Thursdays ago and it was closed. That day had something going on, she explained. But today, yes, yes, it's open. Any time after 6:30.
After downing our caffè and selecting two tavola calda items, we walked home for lunch. I thought Ettore may bounce up here, since Elena is in Dusseldorf until Friday (we text chatted while she waited for her plane this morning), but nothing yet. I did hear him with Vincenzo out on the terrazza earlier, as they were watering plants after lunch.
We both dozed off for a brief cat nap, and I've been blogging here and listening for the kid. I'll take some time to look at excursions before we get ready to walk to VIN.
************
Mexico excursion still needs info from the crowd. Laura and Megan are always first to respond, which I appreciate. It helps make these last precious days in Sicily less stressful if I can get this excursion wrapped up and done!
It started drizzling. Not quite drizzling; more like a heavy vapor. Regardless, I ran back in to get my umbrella before we walked to VIN.
At VIN, the owner and top "Barman," Vincenzo, recognized us and came to say hello.
We started with a Negroni for Joe, and an Etnaen white for me, of course accompanied by the standard bowls of chips and peanuts, with some fantastic marinated local olives with chili pepper flakes.
Next, a fritto misto of seafood, which was excellent. A bottle of Sicilian white was opened.
We each got the main course of grilled tuna, which was good, although a tad bit overcooked -- we like it sushi grade in the middle. It was close, and still quite tasty, accompanied by grilled zucchine and eggplant.
I forgot to take pics of the food,
so here's the band stage.
Vincenzo brought Joe an amaro on the house.
We walked home, a bit of a stretch, when I decided I need a time-share mini bernadoodle and perhaps a casa singole in Fiumicino. We hadn't thought of looking there.
Joe forgot the keys, so I texted Maria Teresa. Everyone is in bed at 11:10 pm. Dang it. Luckily, she saw my text and let us in, vanishing my fears of having to walk to Hotel Casale Greco to sleep there for the night.
Garbage is out, and I'm in bed. Can't wait to sleep.
Buonanotte.
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